-----I Hate to call Fatty, Fatty-----
During my visit to US as a PhD student, my first semester ended with flying colors. But somehow every month I was losing weight. From the heavy look of 69kg for my height, I trimmed down to 57kg simply due to the pressure of studies, and probably not having proper food at the right times.
After finishing core courses, a shadow of weariness and illness overwhelmed me. And I decided I could not hold it anymore. I decided to go back to my home country, homesickness overpowering over me. So I got on the plane and flew back home.
When I reached the destination airport, my mom had come to collect me along with my luggages. She said she couldn't figure out if I had lost health at all. But when I came back home, showered and wore a dress from my old wardrobe, she realized how much I had lost health. The sides of my dress were too loose all long my length . Then, after having lunch, I went off to sleep. Later, she confessed that I looked so small sleeping on my bed unlike before.
It was not long before my brother was back from school, and when I woke up and came within his vicinity, he didn't say much. All along before I made my way to US, he had called me Fatty, and it was that way between him and me, and I didn't mind because that was his way of showing brotherly love. But now that he had observed me from head to foot, he remarked, "Fatty is half the size as before. I even feel bad to call Fatty, Fatty." Mom and myself burst out laughing at his remark, and we enjoyed laughing about it every time we shared it when we came in touch with relatives soon after.